chapter 87 part 2
What would people call him in the future? The Wine-Pouring Squire?
Lancel thought of his father, far away in the Westerlands.
Would his father be disgraced because of him? Had he brought shame upon House Lannister?
Lancel suddenly wondered if this was why Cersei treated him so coldly.
...
"Bastard! Idiot! Fool! Idiot!"
Robert's thunderous curses made Lancel shudder, almost causing him to drop the flagon.
At the critical moment, Lancel hugged the flagon tightly.
"Daydreaming again? You Lannister pig! What are you standing there for, waiting for me to wring your neck? Get over here and fill my cup!"
Robert's training was very effective. Lancel no longer dared to let his mind wander.
...
...
King's Landing, residence of the Master of Coin.
The afternoon sun gradually climbed the window lattice. Its dappled projection warmed every corner of the room, every speck of dust.
After hearing the news reported by his attendant, a smirk touched the corners of Lord Petyr Baelish's lips.
"Information is wealth. I do enjoy these little surprises."
The attendant spoke, "My lord, your orders, please."
Petyr's green eyes shifted slightly, his smile as elegant as ever. "Though it's not particularly valuable, it's sufficient as a gift for someone I haven't seen in a long time. He will feel my sincerity."
After a pause, Petyr added, "Arrange it at once. Keep it safe for me. I don't want any surprises that will disappoint me."
The attendant's body couldn't help but tremble. "Yes, my lord!"
...
After the attendant left, Petyr leaned back in his chair and looked out the window.
Lord Jon's illness had been very severe a while ago, leading Petyr to believe that Lord Jon could pass away at any moment.
Petyr's interconnected schemes were not yet fully in place, and such a situation was not conducive to his interests.
However, the arrival of King Robert had brought him an unexpected surprise.
After Lord Jon met with King Robert, his physical condition showed a visible improvement.
Was it Robert's stimulus, or was there a problem with Maester Pycelle?
Before he could ponder it further, Petyr found himself caught in another dilemma.
Lord Jon recovering too quickly was also a headache for Petyr. He didn't want Lord Jon to die right now, but he also didn't want to see a restored, healthy Hand of the King.
A healthy Hand of the King would weaken the power Petyr already held.
Six months at most... A cold glint flashed in Petyr's eyes.
...
Overall, things had been going smoothly lately. Everything was developing just as he had hoped, which put Petyr in a very good mood.
Petyr's eyelids suddenly twitched.
Lost in thought, Petyr was struck by an idea he found rather strange. It seemed that only during this period when Baron Glynn had been away from King's Landing had his affairs gone so smoothly.
Petyr shook his head, casting aside the absurd notion that had suddenly surfaced.
The brilliant Petyr was not superstitious. He only believed in reliable intelligence; that had always been his most dependable path to victory.
What Petyr was most suspicious of now was Maester Pycelle, who was responsible for treating Lord Jon.
King Robert was no skilled physician; when faced with a difficult problem, all he knew was how to swing a hammer.
Everyone else thought that King Robert's timely return was the key to Lord Jon's recovery.
However, Petyr did not think so. His intuition told him that Maester Pycelle, who appeared to have no desires or ambitions, was highly suspect!
Petyr would not blindly trust his intuition. He had already begun to investigate Maester Pycelle to verify whether his intuition was right or wrong.
...
...
Maegor's Holdfast, the Queen's Bedchambers.
On the bed, having just finished their tussle, Cersei Lannister pressed Jaime Lannister down beneath her.
Her slender hand was still trembling slightly. Cersei caressed Jaime's handsome face and asked, "Jaime, have you thought it through now?"
Jaime kept his eyes closed, lost in the aftertaste of Cersei's tenderness, and did not answer her question.
Seeing that Jaime remained silent, an impatient Cersei moved off his body and casually grabbed a white nightgown from the side, draping it over herself.
Jaime sighed, opened his eyes, and propped himself up on one elbow, resting his cheek in his hand. With a slight smile, he said, "Cersei, what else do you think I can say?"
Cersei glanced sideways at Jaime but did not stop what she was doing.
Seeing Cersei, now dressed in her nightgown, about to get up and leave the bed, Jaime smiled dotingly.
Jaime reached out and grabbed Cersei's wrist. "I know, I know. In the end, what else can I do but support you?"
Hearing this, a curve finally appeared on Cersei's lips.
Cersei leaned close to Jaime, gently patting his cheek. "Jaime," she said softly, "you've become cunning. You just had to torment me a little first. Although the process was pleasant for me too, the thought of it displeases me."
Jaime smiled, folded his hands behind his head, and looked up at Cersei. "Cersei, this intoxicates me."
Cersei gave Jaime a sidelong glance, then couldn't resist leaning down to leave a warm, moist kiss on his forehead.
Jaime's dashing looks could just as easily make Cersei lose herself.
Cersei turned her head and lay down on Jaime's broad chest. "Jaime, you've changed recently. I don't know exactly what it is, but I can feel it."
Jaime's lips curled. He stroked Cersei's dark hair and said, "Cersei, you've always understood me best."
As he spoke, Jaime let out a small sigh and continued, "I was originally full of confidence about investigating the matter of the person behind the scenes. But the more intelligence I gathered, the more lost I became... In the end, I didn't even dare to judge what was true and what was false... The change you've sensed is actually me coming to understand myself clearly. Perhaps this is a good thing."
Cersei squinted and asked, "What good thing?"
Jaime's tone was tinged with helplessness. "I feel... I might really not be suited for handling complex situations. I think I'm better suited to being a sword. A sword that belongs only to you."